


boundless enthusiasm

by boom_goes_the_canon



Series: the fan-maker and the fan [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Feuilly is the Best, Fluff, M/M, Minor Combeferre/Jean Prouvaire, Multiple Attempts at Matchmaking, Pining Enjolras, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24960211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_goes_the_canon/pseuds/boom_goes_the_canon
Summary: “Everything has been going very well thus far,” Enjolras concludes.Courfeyrac seizes his chance. “Because of Feuilly?”Enjolras lets out what can only be described as a dreamy sigh. “Ah, Feuilly.”
Relationships: Enjolras/Feuilly
Series: the fan-maker and the fan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815292
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	boundless enthusiasm

Les Amis de l’ABC had a new member, and Enjolras was completely, absolutely, Combeferre-certified head over heels for him.

Courfeyrac wasn’t present when it happened, which he would forever be kicking himself for. He had been unable to get out of an invitation to a dinner party, and the brief company of a charming young lady seemed a poor consolation to missing what Combeferre confirmed to be the funniest incident since Jehan punched Bahorel in the nose.

“He practically had stars in his eyes,” Combeferre confirms in a deadpan voice as Courfeyrac languishes on his sofa. “And he was nodding so hard I thought his head would fall off.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?” Courfeyrac was aghast.

“I told Enjolras to invite him to further meetings.”

“That’s _all_?”

“I can only violate Enjolras’ privacy so much before I start to feel guilty.” Damn Combeferre with his damn smirk. Jehan had warned him about this. “If you want more details, I’m afraid you are going to have to go to Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac turns up on Enjolras’ doorstep that night, of course. He is not one to waste his time.

“So, there is a new member of our merry band?” Courfeyrac says as he barges into Enjolras’ living quarters.

Enjolras breaks out into a brilliant smile. “Yes. He joined today.”

-

Feuilly, for that was the man’s name, seemed perfectly friendly when Courfeyrac meets him the next day. He was a workman, engaged in the painting and carving of fans, and he had a nice smile and paint stains on his shirtsleeves. Of course, he was off-limits, having caught Enjolras’ attention, but Courfyerac could certainly see the appeal.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Courfeyrac says, shaking the man’s hand with vigor. “Enjolras told me _so_ much about you.” There had been an inspirational speech. Courfeyrac had only laughed a total of three times.

Feuilly blushes, only a little. “Oh, um, nice to meet you too. He told me about the aims of your organization and I support them wholeheartedly.”

They were still in relative earshot of the general public, so Courfeyrac leads Feuilly to the inner rooms of the Musain, speaking loudly about the benefits of educating children to draw attention away from the political pamphlets Courfeyrac was slipping into the pockets of the man’s coat.

“Enjolras tells me your field of expertise is international politics,” Courfeyrac says once they are safely away from the crowd.

And Feuilly gets a gleam in his eye, and he’s off. Courfeyrac takes diligent, if somewhat meandering notes, for Enjolras had been forced to attend his classes today of all days. Feuilly was extremely passionate about the partition of Poland, and the state of Greece, Italy, Hungary and Romania. He reports all this to Enjolras, the evening afterwards.

“Oh, yes, of course, it is high time that our cause expanded to include other nations,” Enjolras says, a delighted flush on his cheeks. “We are extremely fortunate that Feuilly joined our organization.”

“Of course. _We_ are very fortunate,” Courfeyrac says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. If Combeferre was here, he would be able to talk some sense into Enjolras. Or at the very least, explain what feelings the man was having.

But Combeferre was not here, and instead Courfeyrac listens to Enjolras gush for hours about how enthusiastically Feuilly responded to the cause, and how he got along with the other members very well, and how he represented an entirely different demographic of people that they really should be focused on.

“He doesn’t seem to realize what he is feeling,” Courfeyrac tells Combeferre a week later, after Combeferre returns from his week-long visit to family. “He needs to realize what he is feeling. He is driving me crazy.”

“Oh?” That damn smirk again.

“Combeferre, we have to help them. They’re completely clueless. They need our help.” Courfeyrac gives Combeferre his best impression of a begging puppy. He had heard from Jehan that this was the absolute best way to manipulate Combeferre’s opinion.

“…You’re right, of course.”

Courfeyrac grins.

“I’ll take Feuilly, you work on Enjolras.”

“Oh no.”

-

Courfeyrac invites himself to dinner with Enjolras the next week, and Enjolras talks excitedly about their progress in Les Amis de l’ABC. All throughout the meal, Courfeyrac indulges him. He had helped bring about the changes after all, including a recruitment plan among the students of the medical school Combeferre attended, and one of them had already joined their ranks.

“Everything has been going very well thus far,” Enjolras concludes.

Courfeyrac seizes his chance. “Because of Feuilly?”

Enjolras lets out what can only be described as a dreamy sigh. “Ah, Feuilly.”

Courfeyrac fights the urge to introduce his palm to his face. “Enjolras, have you considered the possibility that—”

“—That what?” Enjolras looks at him earnestly. He probably has no idea what he is feeling right now, Courfeyrac thinks. He switches tactics.

“—That your cravat is most unfashionable, and that everyone on the streets is probably judging why such an inspiring young man is dressed in the fashions of his great-grandfather?” Courfeyrac prods the sad-looking thing with the end of his cane.

Enjolras looks down at his cravat and tugs idly on it, making the entire situation worse. “I do not much care what I look like.”

“Well, yes, but it’s very important to maintain the proper image, you know?” Courfeyrac gestures to his coat, newly adjusted to fit the most recent fashions, and his waistcoat, with its elaborate stripes. He adjusts the knot on his cravat. “For the sake of our members, it is better for morale if our leader did not look as if he stole his clothes from a graveyard. And not even a particularly fashionable graveyard.”

The deed is complete. Enjolras stares into the distance thoughtfully. “Better for morale, you say?”

“Yes, of course. I’m sure everyone would appreciate it.” Feuilly in particular, thought Courfeyrac. It was getting to be quite painful to watch Enjolras gaze lovingly at the man in question and make passionate little speeches about how dedication to the cause was admirable even when he wasn’t in earshot.

“Well,” Enjolras says hesitantly. “Perhaps you could help me with that?”

“I have been waiting _years_ for you to ask me that, Enjolras.”

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. “That seems like a bit of an exaggeration.”

“The evening of June 13, 1816. We first met. I shook your hand. You shook mine. I thought you were a ghost, since you were dressed like one. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were only one year older than me instead of the _century_ I expected.”

“You needn’t make such a big deal out of it,” Enjolras grouses, but he allows Courfeyrac access to his wardrobe.

-

Combeferre nods at Courfeyrac when they next meet.

“So, you effected the change in his fashion?” Combeferre says, getting straight to the point.

“Of course. I opted for a more conservative approach given his Enjolrasian tendencies.” The difference, in Courfeyrac’s humble opinion, was striking, especially in the number of heads Enjolras turned on the streets. But Courfeyrac had also caught Feuilly staring at Enjolras’ attire more than once afterwards, and thus concluded that the scheme was successful. “And you?”

“I have convinced Feuilly that Enjolras’ tendency to mention him in his speeches is in fact a sign of great admiration and respect, and that it is actually an unusual occurrence for him to be like so.” Combeferre clears his throat. “It was rather difficult, given that he has no frame of reference for how Enjolras acts around people who are not him.”

Courfeyrac nods solemnly. “Then we must execute the next step of the plan.”

“Which is?”

“We lock them in the back room of the Musain and wait for them to realize their feelings.”

Combeferre doesn’t look convinced, which Courfeyrac does not appreciate. “You do realize they will simply have a Discussion about Liberty?” The capital letters were evident in his voice.

Courfeyrac sighs, and puts his hands together. “Combeferre, listen to me…”

-

Courfeyrac turns the key in the door and drops the key into Combeferre’s hand. “There,” he says, satisfied. “Consider it done.”

“How long should we give them?” Combeferre says. “I would give an estimate, but then again, you are the expert on such matters.”

Courfeyrac feels oddly proud. “I suppose we should let them out by suppertime. In the meantime, _Monsieur_ Combeferre, you will tell me about this little affair of yours and one Jean Prouvaire.” Courfeyrac takes Combeferre’s arm and gleefully observes the way he drops his eyes and reddens.

-

When they finally return hours later and unlock the door, Enjolras and Feuilly are still talking. Enjolras leans his head against his hand, a goofy smile on his face. His eyes are still fixed on Feuilly. Of course.

“You have some good insights,” Feuilly says hastily when he sees Combeferre and Courfeyrac in the doorway.

“Well, your perspective is greatly appreciated and you are brilliant,” Enjolras returns. “You deserve most of the credit.”

“I take it you had a productive discussion,” Combeferre says, with complete sincerity and no eyebrow-waggling at all.

“Of course!” they say, in unison. Courfeyrac forces a smile and begins plotting his next scheme.


End file.
